


Demon of the Sands

by VagabondingImbecile



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: A boy and his horse, Beyond Hyrule, Character Focus, Gen, Hope you like sand, Introversion, Not-so-nice people, Post-Majora's Mask, There's a lot of it here, Wanderlust, and other wonderful stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagabondingImbecile/pseuds/VagabondingImbecile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young boy, far removed from the kingdom that shaped him, first sets foot upon the sand-ridden wastelands of Grand Larina, he unknowingly brings with him a shining ray of hope amidst the desolation.  An isolated community in turmoil, a rag-tag squad of soldiers destroying themselves from within, and the ancient monster that endangers everything else around them - the young hero's determination to protect overpowers all, including his own rationality.</p>
<p>But not everything can be saved.  The harsh desert spares no life, even those with the will to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Here's a thing I did.  
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed, highly encouraged, and will be rewarded with tea and chocolate biscuits. Make sure to leave your address and PO Box number so I can mail your prize to you by envelope, but know that I will take no responsibility for any damages that occur during shipment. You'll just have to make do with soggy biscuits. 
> 
> Shout-out to my wonderful Beta, Sifl. If you have any problems with the content within this chapter, then do please defer all blame and angry messages to them. Thank you.   
> (Please do not do this silly thing - shout at me instead, I can handle it.) 
> 
> There's supposed to be a story here, isn't there?

“Do you know what people call this place?”

Several trails of golden sands curled and twirled and snaked through the air as though delighted by the scene of desolation surrounding them.   Their careless dance glittered with insensitive joy for miles across the massive stage of the wide desert plain. ‘Eternal sands,’ they seemed to cry. ‘Forever we play amongst friends!’

_But at the cost of everything else,_ thought the young Hylian boy as he listlessly observed the gleeful wafting of sand grains. If it wasn’t for the single, lonely tree that rested further along the smooth sandstone path he travelled on, he would have declared the place a lifeless wasteland.

Insulted by his private observation, a wisp of sand invaded the defences of Link’s cloak hood and mounted a direct assault against his large blue eyes… which would have been more effective had it not attempted the same manoeuvre four times in the past hour. Link's eyes were already aflame with an itch that the boy stalwartly _refused_ to scratch, and the extra sand did little to worsen the feeling.

“Uh… hello?”

Link squinted as he fixed his water-dabbed eyes back towards the lonely tree. Branches rife with healthy leaves hung high overhead and stretched well over the generous width of the sandstone road. A small but wild patch of tall, verdant grass surrounded the tree’s base.  

What amazed Link most of all was the species - an oak tree, and fully grown too. Link was no stranger to trees – heck, he’d lived _inside_ one for ten years of his life. He could not fathom the possibility that an oak could survive in such an unforgiving environment.   _How?_

“You okay, little guy?”

Link blinked a few times, clearing the watery haze that coated his vision, and twisted his head left. Nathaniel, Link’s fair haired companion, was looking down at him from atop a sturdy chestnut coloured horse.  

Link shifted on Epona, feeling embarrassed that the lull in communication between him and his company had lasted so long. He slowly nodded his answer and then looked away, finding it difficult to meet the young man’s eyes.

“Seemed kind of distracted there,” said Nathaniel. The young man’s shaky voice gave Link the impression that he wasn’t quite comfortable with talking. Whether Nathaniel was like that all the time or just with him, Link wasn’t sure.

“You _do_ know the story behind this place, don’t you?” asked Nathaniel.

Link shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“Wow,” Nathaniel breathed, “you really aren’t from around here.”

“Afraid not,” Link said. He held back a shrug, thinking it might give his companion the wrong impression.

“It’s a pretty fascinating tale,” the young man said. “Well, I think so, anyway. Maybe you won’t find it so interesting.”

Nathaniel had touted himself to Link as a one-man delivery service. They had first met a few hours ago in a small town named Papira along the outskirts of the desert. There, the young carrier had been waiting out the worst of the desert heat before continuing with his current – and very important, Nathaniel had insisted – delivery to Grataia, the city which resided on the opposite end of the Grand Larina desert. The contents of said delivery eluded Link, and he felt no need to pry into the young man’s business.

In fact, it was Nathaniel, intrigued by the strange boy’s presence, who approached Link first, and after a one sided conversation in Nathaniel’s favour, the carrier offered to keep Link company as they crossed the desert plain. Despite Link’s insistence that he travelled alone, the young man tagged along anyway. Link suspected this was more for Nathaniel’s benefit than his own.

They now rode their respective steeds across a path of smooth sandstone, which had no doubt been crafted with great effort and patience to allow for easier travel over unreliable sands. Both of them had shared only a few sparse words as they travelled, the majority of which had come from the young carrier only to be met with Link’s terse yet soft-spoken responses.        

A clean, gentle wind breezed past, which did nothing to relieve Link from the heat of the blazing sun overhead. He wiped his forehead clean of sweat before shielding his eyes against the sunlight. He stared towards the dunes that lined the horizon for a moment, then leaned forward and gave Epona a pat on the neck for no real reason. It was the least she deserved for carrying him through the terrible desert heat.

“So,” Nathaniel said. “Wanna hear it?”

“The story?” Link paused as he straightened himself. “Well…”

Truthfully, Link was not sure. Between the sweltering heat and his wandering mind, he didn’t find himself in quite the mood for stories.   But rather than upset his new travelling partner...

Link nodded.

“Sure, why not.”

Link could almost _feel_ Nathaniel’s bright smile.

“Alright then.” Nathaniel adjusted his beige coloured cloak around his neck. His shaky voice took a more dramatic turn.   “Five hundred years ago, there was… you know, don’t you think it’s funny how all the most interesting things seemed to happen long, long, long ago?”

Link did not expect the pause that followed. Surely it was a rhetorical question?

When it became clear that Nathaniel expected a response, Link faced him and gave his belated answer. “It’s hilarious.”

Nathaniel frowned. Link quickly faced away, wincing. _That sounded mean._

He was surprised to hear Nathaniel laugh. The young carrier didn’t seem to take any offence to his unintentionally glib reply, which brought Link some relief. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the carrier’s feelings.

“So then,” Nathaniel continued, shifting on his saddle. “About five hundred years ago, there was… or maybe it was six hundred?” The young man gave a thoughtful ‘hmm’. “I can never remember the exact timeframe. But anyway – _some_ time ago, an enormous battle was said to’ve taken place on this very plain.”

Nathaniel waved a hand smoothly across his line of sight, presenting the alleged battlefield to Link. Flat for the most part, only occasionally rising and dipping to no significant degree. As a location for combat, Link imagined, it was an even playing field. This desolate plain would have given no significant advantages to either force. _But why fight in the middle of a desert?_

“Back then,” Nathaniel went on, “this whole area was the most beautiful anyone had ever have laid eyes on. Trees of unimaginable stature, fields of emerald green- all rich with life and possibilities.”  The carrier chuckled softly.  “Not that one specific place could really be rich with _possibility._ That’s more of a concept when you think about it. I mean, if you play the right cards then _everywhere_ is full of possibility.” Nathaniel shrugged. “But, that’s what people say.”  

Link nodded absentmindedly, doing his best to pay attention to Nathaniel. His damp, stingy eyes wandered back to the oak tree. As they drew closer, Link looked around the ground close to the tree’s base, wondering if there was some kind of replenishing water source that kept the proud oak and its grassy followers alive. He could see none.

“Anyway, I digress.” Nathaniel cleared his throat. “This whole place used to be teeming with animals, every kind you could think of, and even strange undiscovered species completely unique to here, like the…” The young carrier paused. “Like the… you know — the three headed… morturcs, and… the mutant deers with sixteen eyes.”

_Morturcs?_ Link frowned as he glanced over to Nathaniel. A bemused expression had taken over the young carrier’s face.

As he caught Link’s eyes, Nathaniel smiled. “Yeah, I made that up. Nobody’s ever _specifically_ mentioned what actually lived here. Guess they didn’t think it was important.” Nathaniel skipped a beat. “Where was I again?”

“Uh…”

“Oh yeah,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head, “never mind.” He straightened himself on his draught horse and continued his tale.

“So, lots of creatures – we’ve mentioned that – but what really made this place worth talking about was all the magical energy that resided here.   _Unbelievable_ amounts – within the air, the soil, everywhere.

“The crops that grew here grew taller and more copious than even the most bountiful of farm plots could ever _dream_ to produce, and – just to top it off, you know –the harvest from these lands were so rich with magical properties that every grain was said to sate your hunger twice as long as ordinary food.” Nathaniel’s eyes wandered the desert plain, lost in its golden majesty. “Even just seeing the land for all its wonder was said to fill you with limitless energy.”

Link struggled to keep his eyes open. Their persistent stinging in the desert climate was becoming too much to bear. _Don’t scratch, Link, it’s a trick. You’ll only make it worse._

Had Nathaniel seen Link’s fluttering eyelids, the carrier might have figured the story was boring him. He’d noticed that Nathaniel appeared unaffected by the harsh climate, so much that his companion was willing to leave the hood of his desert cloak down.

After a short pause, the young man continued. “It was a gift from the Gods – or so people said – but in return for their generosity, the Gods demanded moderation from all who would seek to harvest from the land, that they would take only what was necessary for survival and no more. Only through this balance would the magnanimous Gods allow both man and beast alike to partake of the land’s offerings.

“The animals that occupied the land understood the rules that the Gods had laid before them… somehow. Must’ve been pretty smart…”

Nathaniel went oddly quiet, as though considering the logic behind what he’d just said.

Link’s leather saddle creaked as he shifted atop Epona. They would soon be under the thick shade of the lonely desert oak tree, much to Link’s anticipation. A momentary relief from an angry sun’s rays; at that moment he could imagine nothing nicer.

“Eventually, though,” Nathaniel went on, a hint of uneasiness in his tone, “wandering explorers and scouts from far off kingdoms began to charter the territory, and over time observed the strange properties of everything that lived and grew on its land.

“Naturally, the scouts made detailed reports and brought them back to their homelands.” A cheeky smile grew on Nathaniel’s face, which Link only caught from the corner of his watering eye. “And naturally” - the carrier's expression faltered - “more and more people became interested in this strange, magical phenomenon.”

A strong wind suddenly blew leftwards, bringing a pleasant coolness through the rough fabric of Link's black cloak. It did not last nearly long enough. Epona snorted in startled agitation as the wind carried a sheet of sand into the side of her head. Link brushed a comforting hand through her mane to calm her.

Nathaniel, Link noticed, had gone uncomfortably quiet. Link sat back in the saddle and gave the young man a while longer. Maybe he was just resting his voice. He _had_ been talking quite some time now…

When the silence continued, Link looked over. Nathaniel had lowered his gaze towards the road ahead, shoulders slumped in dejection.

“Um…” Link murmured quietly. “Was that the end?”

With more than a little disappointment, Nathaniel faced him and said: “You don’t seem all that into it.”

Guilt rushed into Link’s stomach. _Oh._ “Nono,” Link reassured, “I’m listening.”

Nathaniel’s small brown eyes dimmed. “That’s really not the same thing.”

“I’m listening _because_ I’m interested,” insisted Link.

“Really?”

Link nodded brightly, _almost_ smiling. While he wasn’t quite buying Nathaniel’s story so far, he _had_ become interested in seeing how the legend played out.  

“Well, okay then.” Nathaniel’s freckled face perked up. He rubbed his nose, cleared his throat, and continued his story with newfound passion. “So, as you might expect, the kingdoms these scouts belonged soon sought to control this alleged ‘God’s gift’ – you know, conquer the land, harness its magicks, all that wonderful stuff.  

“Even better,” Nathaniel said with a grin, “word travelled far and wide enough to garner the attention of three different kingdoms. Or, at least three kingdoms – some people say there might have been even more involved. But still, think about it; three whole armies, hundreds of thousands of soldiers armed to the teeth and trained to perfection, and all of them converging on one small… well, _relatively_ small area compared to these massive armies.”

Nathaniel nodded as though satisfied. “That’s a pretty impressive image, right? Well, impressive to me, anyway.”

“They certainly sound dedicated,” Link said, more to show engagement in Nathaniel’s tale over adding anything useful. He spared a glance to Nathaniel’s face. The carrier seemed… okay with his response. Happy, even.

The desert road went down a slight dip before levelling out again. The lonely tree was now only forty horse strides away. Link could almost imagine the coolness of its shade from where he was.

Further ahead - not far beyond the desert oak - laid a fork in the road. One path stretched straight towards the distant dunes, the other curved right and continued across the flat plain towards the rocky mountains that jutted out along the horizon. From what Nathaniel had told him Link knew that the right path led to Grataia, the city that marked the end of his companion’s route.

What lay along the leftmost path, however, was unknown to Link. And that intrigued him.

“Inevitably,” Nathaniel said, “the armies soon collided with each other. And since each army sought the land for the benefit of their own kingdoms, they weren’t exactly prepared to hand it off to each other.

“Negotiations were attempted but, uh“- Nathaniel scratched his forehead, lips pulled to a smirk –“they didn’t work out in anyone’s favour. Each army offered up their claims to why their kingdom deserved the land over everyone else, but none cared to listen to the others' supposed ‘rights’. When it became clear that no army was prepared to back down, a great and bloody battle commenced – these three warring kingdoms, and the wild native beasts, caught in the middle of all the chaos as they defended what they could only have known as home.”

The desert ambiance went eerily silent. Nathaniel held a joyful expression, the sight of which made Link shift on Epona and tug the neck of his cloak. The carrier seemed to be enjoying the current part of his story a little _too_ much.

He checked back on the tree – twenty strides away – then back to Nathaniel.

“The Gods didn’t exactly appreciate what was going on,” Nathaniel continued. If not for his expression, Link would have been surprised at the cheeriness of the carrier’s tone. “They watched in shock as man and beast slew and succumbed to one another, and wept as blood flowed upon the precious gift of their land.” Nathaniel… _laughed_. “Cried like babies, I’d imagine.”

Link knitted his brow, perplexed. “Why would that matter?”

“Dunno.” Nathaniel chuckled to himself. “Just a funny thought. Seems pretty overemotional for a God to cry, don’t you think?”

“When people are killing each other over the land they’d supposedly made for everyone?” Link shifted again for comfort, eyes fixed on the back of Epona’s head. “Crying’s probably the least they could do.”

“Ohh, well, hold that thought little guy, because it gets better.”            

The excitement in Nathaniel’s voice unsettled Link. He knew from the start that the carrier’s tale was going to entail a battle, but he hadn’t realised it would devolve into murder on such a... _pointless_ scale. He had experienced and witnessed more than enough of both for one lifetime.

Despite his discomfort, Link allowed Nathaniel to continue. Even if his tone was unsuitable for the grisly content within his story, he knew the young man meant no harm. Link even figured he might be taking the tale too seriously. After all, it _was_ just a story…

_And not all stories are fun_.

“Sure,” Nathaniel said, “crying was the _least_ they could have done - as you have so rightly pointed out.” Nathaniel grinned. “But it definitely wasn’t the worst they ended up doing.”

Link caught Nathaniel’s eyes with a furrowed brow. “Retribution?”

Nathaniel’s grin simmered to a traditional smile. “You’re a smart one, little man.”

“It’s how these stories usually go.”

Nathaniel shrugged a shoulder as he faced forward. “True enough, I guess. Still, I think they came up with a pretty creative solution.” The young man pointed towards the oak tree, now only five strides away. “There’s a clue,” he said.

Truthfully, Link was glad that Nathaniel finally acknowledged the desert oak’s presence. “I’ve been wondering about that,” Link admitted.

The young man smirked, looking at Link from the corner of his eye. “So that’s what’s been distracting you all this time, huh?”

Embarrassed, Link nodded. “A little bit, yeah.”

“Well then,” Nathaniel chirped, “let’s hear what conclusions you came up with.”

As they both fell in underneath the great oak’s shade, Link breathed a sigh of relief. Cool air washed over his moisture ridden face, creating a pleasant contrast with the glowing heat of his skin. Without any command, Epona slowed to a complete stop. Seemed she wanted to enjoy the shade as well.    

Nathaniel halted his draught horse. The large steed stared ahead with glassy eyes, unconcerned by the relaxing shade. Nathaniel didn’t seem to care much about the shift in temperature either. The carrier raised a thin eyebrow, waiting for Link to respond.

Link stared at the golden sea that surround the island of tall grass upon which the tree stood. “Okay,” Link said under his breath. He faced his companion. “The Gods no longer deemed people worthy of their land, so they smothered it all with sand.”

Nathaniel smiled. “You’re half right.” The carrier let go of his reins. “They didn’t just summon sand out of nowhere. Technically, the Gods considered the armies as trespassers on holy ground. And going by that logic, the Gods could do whatever they damn well pleased with them.”

Link turned his head as a small gust of wind carried sand towards his face. The sand blew against his hood, successfully sparing his eyes from any extra agitation.

Simultaneously, a wispy sheet of golden grains blew directly against Nathaniel’s face, to which the young carrier had only a steel faced reaction.

Link tightened his lips as he returned his gaze to the carrier. “So they turned the soldiers into sand.”

“Yep,” confirmed Nathaniel, nodding. “They let the battle among the armies and the beasts continue until only one kingdom reigned supreme. Who they were wasn’t important, for in one gigantic blast of divine energy” – Nathaniel smashed his hands together – “the bodies of all who had fallen in combat exploded into countless little particles of sand, which hung in the air like a blanket above the victors.”

Holding his hands up in the air with exaggerated flair, Nathaniel smirked. “The Gods – being the funny bunch they were – allowed the ‘victorious’ army to savour their short, final moments before just…” – and with a snapping motion, Nathaniel brought his hands down – “letting it drop.

“And for having proved themselves so unworthy of the Gods grace, neither human, nor indeed animal, would find something as benevolent as this promised land ever again.”

Nathaniel held a gratified expression, one that told Link the carrier’s story was finished. Link turned to face the desert oak. Its full, lush leaves bore milky brown acorns in abundance.

Link frowned, his eyes dour.   “So then this tree…”

“Apparently a remnant of this desert’s former glory,” Nathaniel finished. The carrier gave a sniggering laugh as he brushed his horse’s mane. “I mean, how often do you see a big brute of a tree like that in the middle of a desert? Must be some reason for it, right? Of course, no-one really knows why, so… yeah.” He smirked and rubbed his cheek. “Magic, right?”

Link stared along the road, his stinging eyes comforted by the lonely oak’s shadow. He trailed the smooth sandstone towards the heat hazed horizon. Link bounced his foot against a metallic stirrup, pondering Nathaniel’s tale.

“How much of that story is actually true?”

Link’s question was met with a shrug. “It’s not a one hundred percent retelling,” said Nathaniel. A wide grin formed on his freckled face. “I took some creative liberties with it, too. The original’s told pretty dry, honestly - lots of boring fluff caught in-between the good bits.”

“But it’s viewed as a legend, right?”

Another shrug. “It’s whatever you want to take it as. Some people think of it as a parable, others swear that it’s nothing but the truth.” Nathaniel’s small eyes focused on the road. “Are we staying here much longer?” he said impatiently. “I really have to make this delivery on time.”

Link forced himself to hold back a frown. He stared out towards the fork in the sandstone road, not a hundred metres away. Link knew his time with the carrier would come to an end when they reached it, so why was the young man waiting around for him, especially when he was in such a rush?

The expectant look on Nathaniel’s face sent a pang of guilt through Link’s chest. With a fleeting smile that left as quick as it came, Link tightened his grip on Epona’s reins and slowly nodded at the young man.

Nathaniel smiled warmly and retrieved his own horse’s reins. He spurred the chestnut horse to walk.

The terrible heat of the desert made Link reluctant to leave the shade of the flourishing desert oak. Even Epona took her time, unwilling to leave the comfort of the lonely tree.

_Gotta go, girl,_ thought Link. He patted Epona’s shoulder, her fine hairs bristling against his skin. _We can’t stay here forever_.

His reddened eyes grew wider when Epona snorted disagreeably. Link _swore_ the little red filly could read his mind, sometimes.

Link held a hand out against the sun until his vision readjusted to the intense light. A question entered his mind. “Is there proof?”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. “Huh?”

“About your story being true,” Link clarified. “Is there anything to suggest the battle actually happened?”

“Besides the fact that things can still inexplicably grow here despite it being, you know, an awful-deadly desert?” Nathaniel rubbed his nose. “Bodies, I guess. Some time ago, there were people – _crazy_ people, mind you - that managed to excavate bones from different spots across the plain, but they could never accurately determine why they were buried there. Never found any ancient weapons or armour buried with them, so… could’ve just been wanderers that got stranded, or something like that.”  

The young man shrugged. “Whether or not that’s enough proof for it being true, well, I really can’t say.” Nathaniel cast his eyes away, then looked back to Link with a lopsided smirk. “To be honest, I think people’re just looking for any excuse that could explain why this whole place is so crappy.”

Link nodded understandingly. “Then what became of the three kingdoms in the story?”

“No idea,” Nathaniel said. “In the original telling, they’re never mentioned again after the battle – though that depends on who you ask, really. Everyone likes to claim their retellings are true to the ‘original’.” The carrier’s mouth thinned.   “Well not me, anyway… But it’s such a _loose_ word, y‘know?”

“Hmm.” Link lowered his gaze, fingers tapping on the rough leather of Epona’s saddle as he pondered.

He could easily have kept asking Nathaniel questions about his tale – like why these kingdoms thought to send _whole_ armies, which would consequently leave their own homelands open to attack – but he didn’t feel it worth the time. It was, after all, just a story, and if there was one thing Link knew, it was that people _loved_ to tell all kinds of stories.  Even himself, he would admit, under the right conditions.

_Still,_ he thought. _Stranger things have turned out true…_

Nathaniel’s story had still disturbed him, though; yet another tale of people fighting and dying, and ultimately gaining nothing from their show of might. Would it really hurt for people to tell happy stories for once?

Even though Link was sure he couldn’t even tell a happy one himself.

He shook his head. That was no way to think.

A short moment of silence passed as Link adjusted a small burlap sack attached to the side of Epona’s saddle. Content that the sack was still securely fastened, he turned to Nathaniel, one more question burning his tongue.  

“You don’t think it’s real, do you?”

Nathaniel brought his head back, face incredulous as he looked down at Link. “Come on, little guy,” he said. “Do I really look _that_ stupid?”

Link winced. “No, I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nathaniel snickered. “I know you didn’t, little guy. But no, I don’t think it’s true.” The carrier faced forward, rolling his shoulders. “Sure, I’ve always found it interesting and all – wouldn’t have told ya if I didn’t- but, y’know, life’s too short to worry about the semantics of silly little stories.

“’Ell,” the young carrier said, slumping back on his saddle, “life’s too short in general.”

Link could do nothing but agree with that. Another bout of silence fell between him and Nathaniel.

The heated climate started once again to annoy Link’s eyes. He urged himself not to scratch them, wishing there had been a way to capture the nice, cool shade of the lonely tree in a bottle so he could bring it with him. _Stupid sun_.

Link faced Nathaniel, water gathering in his eye corners. “Just one thing,” he said.

Nathaniel nodded at him to go on.

“You asked if I knew what people called this place.”

“Hmm… yeah.” The young man grew sceptical. “Did I not tell you?”

Link shook his head, and waited eagerly for Nathaniel’s revelation.

“Ah, well… um, I didn’t actually, now that I think about it.” The young man rhythmically patted his horse. “Honestly… people do have a special name for this place –this part in particular – but…” Nathaniel pulled his lips inwards, then sighed dejectedly. “I’ve forgotten it now.”

Link’s eyes dimmed. “Oh…”

“My memory for names can be _pretty_ terrible sometimes.” The young man shifted on his horse. “But the actual story was the important part, so I promise you haven’t missed anything important.”

Link rubbed a finger on his cheek, making a trail through the moisture on his skin. “That’s fair.”

“I _can_ give you this place’s proper name, though,” the carrier said. “Grand Larina. Nothing special, really.”

Link allowed himself to smile at that. “Yeah,” he said, “you already told me that, remember?” He had, just out of curiosity, already inquired to the area’s name back at the town of Papira, the knowledge of which Nathaniel had happily imparted. Better to know a name for where you travelled over nothing at all.

“Okay,” Nathaniel said flatly, “I’ve got a terrible memory for _everything_. But only sometimes, y’know?”

Link gave a soft, impromptu laugh; an awful noise that never failed to irritate him. “Think you call that selective memory.”

Though Link detested the grating shrill that was his own horrible laughter, he was glad to hear Nathaniel’s. “And that’s how I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.” The young man turned forward, his expression satisfied as he stared off towards the dunes.

Link could sense that the carrier had a few questions of his own, but none ever came his way. He felt relief at that; questions directed at Link usually meant questions _about_ Link, and those were questions he _never_ enjoyed answering.    

Before Link could even realise how close they were to the fork in the desert road, he had found himself not a few metres away from it. His breath hitched. He’d almost come to enjoy the carrier’s company…

Link pulled back on Epona’s reins, slowing her down as they approached the fork. Nathaniel moved ahead of him and travelled along the right hand curve, oblivious to Link’s movement.

The carrier turned his head right, and on seeing that his little companion was missing he quickly looked towards the left hand path with worried surprise. “You’re not coming with me?”

Link cringed at the disappointment in Nathaniel’s tone.   They both stopped their mounts; Nathaniel sitting at the curvature of the right hand road, Link on the straight and narrow left.

“Sorry,” Link said meekly, facing the sands. “I… wasn’t really planning on it.”

If he was telling the whole truth, Link would have admitted that he had no plan at all. This path had been left unexplained, led deeper into unknown territory. The explorer in Link couldn’t bear to leave something like that unchecked and even his distaste for the awful nature of a desert could not deter him.

Nathaniel had chosen his path. He had his delivery duties to fulfil within the city of Grataia, a city of which the young man had spoken so highly of.

But it wasn’t cities that Link wanted to see. He didn’t want to get lost in crowds, caught up in the hustle and bustle of civilisation; he simply wanted to be lost.

Nathaniel nodded understandingly, but disappointment had not left him. His hands clenched tighter on the reins of his draught horse. “There’s… there’s really nothing interesting to see out there, little guy.”

Link flattened his lips.

Nathaniel glanced to the side, mouth shifting awkwardly. “I mean, it’s just some mining village, really... that’s hardly exciting, right?”

_Mining village?_ Nathaniel had failed to mention that earlier.

“And beyond that, I’m not even sure.” A discomforting shakiness had returned to the young man’s voice. “Sand, most likely. And monsters. And… monsters made of sand, or something.” He gave a lethargic shrug. “Like I said, I don’t really know what you’d find, but it sure couldn’t be friendly.”

“Sounds pretty exciting to me,” Link said, cheerily as he could manage. Nathaniel didn’t seem to buy his forced tone.

“Maybe, but… it’s not worth the risk, honestly.” Nathaniel looked him square in the eye. Link had to force himself to stare back.

Nathaniel broke eye contact first. The young man sighed deeply. “If you’re _really_ dead set on going further in, then you should at least know there’s a road from Grataia that leads to the same place. Well, far as I know, anyway. Dunno where else it would go to.”

A hopeful smile appeared on the carrier’s freckled face. “But seriously, unless you’ve got a real thing for sand, there’s probably nothing to see out there.” He ran a hand through his short fair hair. “You’d love Grataia, little guy. I swear, if you’ve never seen the Sinverland Trio play at The Bannered Battalion, then you haven’t even _lived_.”

Link frowned to himself. _The wha at the wha?_       

“So come on over, little guy,” Nathaniel said, flicking his head. “Plenty of room on this road here, y’know?”

Link sighed. He had idly considered staying with Nathaniel for the duration of his route, if only to give the young man the travelling companion he so obviously wanted.

But staying with Nathaniel now would only make his inevitable departure all the more difficult.  

“Thanks,” said Link, barely masking the guilt he felt within himself, “but I think I’m going to take this one.”

Nathaniel’s mouth gaped, hung for a moment, and then released a saddened sigh. “You’re one weird little guy.”

Link shrugged one arm, and took the young man’s comment in good humour. “Heard that before.”  

For only a second Nathaniel looked confused. Then, he shook his head and pulled on his reins, turning his horse away. He glanced back at Link over his shoulder, and with genuine appreciation, said, “Thanks for the company… Lironk, wasn’t it?”

Link knitted his brow, though not with anger. He could tell through the carrier’s tone that he was joking.   Nathaniel had shared his name with Link back at Papira, and though he had never made a habit of exchanging names with others, Link felt it only fair that he share his as well.

The carrier punctuated the ‘mistake’ with grin, made a point of not correcting it. “It gets pretty boring,” he said, “taking these treks all the time with nobody to talk to.”

Link could understand that.  Sometimes peoplejust needed an outlet for conversation. Link always thought of himself more as a listener rather than a speaker, which was probably why people tended to ramble away with him even if he didn’t always answer back.      

“You sure you’ll be alright out there?”

“Yeah,” Link said quietly. _Too_ quietly. He looked up from the ground and raised his voice. “Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s just…” Nathaniel sighed. “There _really_ can’t be much worth seeing out there.” Nathaniel scratched his forehead and grimaced. He seemed to consider turning his horse back around, but didn’t follow through. “Even if there aren’t any monsters or anything, it’s bound to be dangerous enough on its own.”

Unfortunately for the young man, Link would not be persuaded. Whether he meant to or not, Link presented a confident smirk. “I can handle it.”

Nathaniel only looked at him. He seemed… unsure, went to speak again… but no words followed. The young man turned his head away.

Link spurred Epona and she walked steadily along his chosen path. “It was nice meeting you,” Link said.

The young carrier did not turn back.

All of Link’s guilt rushed into a sigh as he faced the back of Epona’s neck. “Good luck with your delivery.”

He didn’t stop Epona, or expect a reply. He simply kept moving forward.

“If you ever find yourself in Grataia,” he heard Nathaniel say, unevenly raising his voice, “feel free to hit me up. Bannered Battalion; ask around, someone’ll tell you where to find it.” He paused. “You can tell me what you find out there, y’know?”

Link only shifted his eyes. The hood of his cloak hung over his peripheral, making deep blackness the only thing he could see. Link made no effort to cast it away. He simply said, “Sure thing,” and with that, heard no more than the whistling of the wind as it played with the sands.

He studied his way forward, narrowed his stinging eyes, gave Epona a few affectionate pats on her sun warmed shoulder, and pressed forward into the unknown depths of the Grand Larina desert.

And yet Link knew, deep within his heart, that he would probably never meet Nathaniel again.

  


	2. Chapter 2

Link gulped down water with a ravenous swig. The liquid tasted as sweet as nectar to his sun-ravaged body. He forced the red leather waterskin away from his lips and heaved a breath, denying himself more than his ration for that hour. He would not allow greed to overcome his senses, knowing if he drank more than was necessary in the heat of the moment that he would come to regret it later.  

Link yelped – a sudden bout of forceful wind shoved him sideways. It nearly pulled the waterskin from his hand as it threatened to throw him from the security of Epona’s saddle and onto the hard stone of the road below.  

Link leaned forward, lowered his chest against Epona’s back, and braced. Hot sands washed over him, mischievous accomplices to the wind’s ferocity. They wanted his eyes again.

Epona granted her windy aggressor a mere stumble for its efforts as she continued to haul Link and all his baggage across the searing desert road. Link almost chuckled at her tenacity. _You could move mountains, girl, you know that?_

The wind, thoroughly defeated by Epona’s insurmountable presence, simply gave up and cast the playful sands back upon the earth in frustration.

Link panted unsteadily. His mouth felt dry again. He cautiously straightened himself on Epona’s back and looked around, expecting the wind to return as quickly as it had arrived.

Yet it did not come back.  

Link looked at the waterskin in his hand. Tipped it, rotated it. The leather receptacle felt lighter, and he could hear nothing sloshing within. With a frown Link brought it back up to his mouth and tasted nothing but residual moisture.

_Damnit._ Link sighed and slammed the waterskin against the saddle. He’d just lost half a day’s worth of water, and all because of some stupid desert wind.

Annoyed, Link corked the leather skin and attached it back to the saddle beside his right leg. He sighed again, deeply, and trailed red scowling eyes along the narrow road ahead.

The terrain had become progressively more elevated. Dunes reached desperately towards the cloudless sky while gentle wafts of sand blew down their smooth slopes. Weatherworn rocks of varying sizes littered the landscape, most half-submerged in the golden sea.

He had yet to see the alternative road from Grataia that Nathaniel had mentioned. Though, as he squinted, Link could almost swear he saw blurred figures gliding along in the distance.

Nah. It was probably the haze creating mirages, playing tricks with his mind. Or it might have been a result of the very real fact that his eyes stung so bad - so _frustratingly_ \- he wanted nothing more than to tear them right out of their sockets and be done with their persistent desert-induced itch.  

_All the places you could’ve gone,_ he thought, taking reins loose in hand as he leaned back on the saddle, _and you chose here._

He shook his head, cloak hood brushing against flushed cheeks.

Well, what was adventure without a little self-inflicted challenge?        

Link ran his hand through Epona’s soft snow-white mane, still not quite over the loss of his precious water to the ever-thirsty desert. He knew that he wouldn’t have stood a chance against the elements without Epona’s help. If not for her companionship, he wasn’t even sure he would have attempted to tackle the challenges of the unknown area.

She’d been carrying him over the desert for a long while now. She deserved a proper rest.

Link surveyed the immediate area with focused eyes. To his left, a thick outcropping of rock reached high into the air about ten paces off the sandstone road. Its smooth, curved face rose out from beneath the sand. The blazing sun scorched the outcropping’s back, creating a deep shadow at its base.

It didn’t have _quite_ the same charm as the shade of a lonely tree, Link thought, but it was a shade all the same. He eased Epona’s reins towards the outcropping. The little filly reacted slowly, unsure of Link’s desired change in direction, until she saw the promise of a refreshing shade herself.

As they entered the protection of the outcropping, Link smoothly dismounted Epona, boots landing deep into the dense bed of sand. He propped his back up against the rock, pulled his hood to his shoulders, and then dragged both hands down his face to wipe it clean of sweat. Fingertips accidently scratched closed eyelids, the momentary touch sending a tingling relief right down his spine, urging him to scratch more.

Link sat down as Epona came towards him and tried to ignore the pestering itch. Wind whistled across the thin edges of the rock face, brushed gently across the golden sand with a sound reminiscent of calm waves lapping against a shore.

Link _almost_ felt relaxed, and if he closed his stupid-stingy eyes he could just about imagine he was in another place; at another time. _Almost_.  

Epona laid down close beside him, saddle bags pushing the sand around as she splayed her legs out to one side. She turned a black, glistening eye to him as if to ask, 'What’s wrong?’

Link smiled at his friend, his vague answer to her silent concern. He leaned forward and grabbed the burlap sack by his feet, holding it upright as he rummaged through its contents. Foodstuffs – unsalted, pre-cooked meat from Papira wrapped in leaves, freshly picked fruit, seeds - all gathered in preparation for his foray into the unsupportive Grand Larina.

He’d already eaten back at the small town a few hours ago, and pangs of hunger had not yet assailed him on his journey. He closed the sack tight and moved to another, which contained oats and numerous waterskins, all intended for Epona. That was the sack he wanted. Link had hoped these supplies would last her at least a couple of days, but if not, he would have to share his own water with her. And her with him, should the need arise, though Epona would not have much say in that matter.

He held two skins in one hand and moved towards Epona’s head. The red filly tracked him with a doe-eyed stare as Link crouched down, the thumb of his free hand teasing the inner-corner of his right eye. She snorted and Link brought his thumb away with a start as he realised what he was doing. He blew out a puff of air, half-smiling at his friend in gratitude for her friendly and obviously intentional warning.  

Link dug one waterskin into the sand, uncorked the other and then held it at an angle towards Epona’s mouth - an awkward method, but in the midst of a water-starved desert he could think of no other way to keep his friend hydrated. Epona lapped at the meagre flow of water, careful not to miss a single drop.

With the receptacle drained, Link presented her with the second bottle, to which the red filly turned her head away. Confident her gesture meant ‘No more, thanks,’ Link returned the waterskins to her bag of oats and moved to his previous place against the rock outcropping.  

And there, he sat comfortably, rock face cooling his back through his cloak and shaded sand tickling the bare skin of his outstretched legs, listening to the sound of his own steady breathing against the sombre ambience of the desert wasteland.

_It’s not **all** bad, _ thought Link. If his eyes hadn’t been stinging, itching, _burning,_ he could easily have found himself drifting off to sleep. But perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t; the shade would not remain forever, would be either superseded by the murderous rays of an ever-moving sun or replaced with the deathly chill of a desert night. To be caught unconscious in such conditions was to face the threat of nature’s greatest assassin.

They wouldn’t stay long, Link figured. Ten minutes, perhaps. Maybe more. Then, they would continue. Epona seemed to be enjoying the break - her eyes now closed and head down flat against the sand. He certainly was, at least.

Link brought his thumb away from the corner of his eye… again. His bushy brow furrowed in confusion. When had he started doing that? He huffed, unamused. _Can’t even control your own body now, Link._

He brought his index finger across his eye, felt the brushing of eyelashes. He sneaked a glance to Epona, observed her closed eyes warily.

_Just one scratch_ , he thought. _She’ll never know._

…

Twenty minutes later, Link was once again travelling the sandstone road, sitting atop Epona’s back and drilling the balls of his hands into both his eye sockets. He had scratched and squeezed and pressed and groaned and clenched his jaw and thought happy thoughts and done _everything else he could do,_ but the persistent itch would not subside.

He wanted to scream.

Epona carried on without fuss, unsympathetic to Link’s momentous struggle with the enemy of rebellious eyes. Link knew that somewhere deep inside herself the little filly was shaking her head and yelling ‘I told you so’.

Link forced his hands away from his face. He blinked repeatedly as his eyes readjusted to the intense sunlight. White spots danced in his vision, repositioning themselves with every flutter of his eyelids.

The damnable itch still remained, pricking the raw skin around his eyes with a million tiny needles. He had gained no satisfaction.

_Stupid desert._

Link twisted his hands on the slick leather of Epona’s reins, desperately willing them to keep away from his face. His body had tricked him once already into thinking he could relieve his burning eyes. He would not fall for its lies again.

Link turned his watery gaze back to the desert road as he and Epona approached a wide dune hill, too high and steep to surmount. The sandstone path thankfully made a sharp left turn and continued parallel to the gargantuan mound.  

It had been over an hour since he left Nathaniel’s company – not accounting for his and Epona’s fifteen minute break into the shade of the outcropping - and still Link had seen no sign of the ‘mining village’ the young delivery man had mentioned. Based on the terrain’s current harsh, unchanging trend, Link surmised that the village would have been standing in the middle of the desert. The thought of that bemused him. Even the Gerudo had the sense to settle on the dry land of a valley, and though it wasn’t quite brimming with life unbridled they had definitely found themselves a safer option.             

Maybe he could still end up surprised.  Maybe when he got around this enormous gathering of sand the desert would simply cease to be and reveal its secret utopia, like the story Nathaniel had told him.  Link doubted it heavily, but then, that’s what would have made it a surprise in the first place.

His only concern now was how much farther he had to go before he reached anything besides desert. The mound Link travelled alongside now stretched for at least another mile, but whatever lay beyond it remained unknown. The mining village, Link hoped. He sought to use it for recuperation, should the place even exist – though Link saw no reason why Nathaniel would lie to him about something like that. If a community could manage to survive amidst an unforgiving desert, then they could surely accommodate a boy and his horse for a short while.

Eventually, the massive dune came to an end. The narrow sandstone path took another sharp turn, this time to Link’s right, and as he made the turn he saw that the road took a gentle, even dip downwards. Link found himself stopped at the top of the sloped road as he came face to face with a gigantic pit, the epicentre of which held a grand, narrow-peaked mountain.

The sandy pit laid flat and even, unblemished by bulbous dunes or jagged rocks save for the isolated mountain. He spied a modestly sized oasis to the left of the mountain’s base, its shimmering water flanked by exotic palm trees, their trunks bending over as though to drink from the life giving source. Signs of cultivation marked the grass surrounding the oasis – fences and what looked like farm plots.

Then Link looked to his right and caught sight of another road a fair distance away, wide and easy to define with its dull brown brickwork as it stretched far off towards the horizon. He made an amused snort at its revelation, believing it to be the road Nathaniel had spoken of. But small movements along its brown brickwork made his amusement fall.  

Link wiped the water from his eyes – _Don’t scratch, don’t scratch –_ to try and get a clearer view. The haze made it difficult. He leaned forward and blocked the sun’s light with a hand, waiting for the figures to get closer, clearer. Horses. Carrying people. At least ten of each, though he couldn’t accurately tell from where he and Epona stood.

The horses moved fast, some not even sticking to the security of the brown brick road. They made a sharp right turn and travelled down a sloping hillside pass. Link followed the path ahead of them with his eyes. It took another right angle turn at the foot of the hill and continued on towards the mountain’s base.

That was when Link noticed the village. He had been too awed by the natural surroundings to take notice of the man-made structures sheltered beside the foot of the mountain. Link’s elevated position let him see straight down in. The village was larger than he would have expected, and the buildings appeared haphazard, arranged with little concern for neatness and order.

It became clear with extended observation, however, that something was terribly wrong.

The wooden wall that surrounded the village had fallen down in places, and was completely shattered in others.

Link was fairly certain, also, the buildings were meant to have roofs. And walls, for that matter. Yet many of the structures within the failing wooden defence had been deprived of those basic things.

It was all an unmistakeable sign of force, and no small amount of it, either.

Link’s heart hammered on his chest. He observed the figures on the other road again. They pounded down the hillside, kicking an immense dust trail behind them. Now he could see why they were in such a hurry. Link followed their path again, and this time noticed a red coloured tent sitting at the side of the road, just outside the village. It looked out of place.

Equal amounts of dread and excitement welled up inside of Link, a sensation that was all too familiar. He felt compelled to discover what fate had befallen this place. Link gritted his teeth behind a closed mouth as he focused solely on the crimson tent, marking it as his first stop.

“Come on.” He tightened his grip on Epona’s reins and spurred the red filly forward with a gentle squeeze of his legs, and she progressed from walk, to canter, to gallop as they followed the road towards the destroyed village.


	3. Chapter 3

The village looked no better from the inside.

Entire structures had been levelled. Only a handful of the desert buildings remained standing. Wood and stone alike mingled uselessly amongst the ground, cast upon the earth like seeds for a terrible harvest. The wind howled in anguish throughout the deserted streets as clouds of sand danced shamelessly amidst the debris, revelling in their death.

Link felt as if he had wandered into a nightmare.

He moved cautiously along the cobblestoned street, leading Epona by her reins.   The little filly welcomed his guidance and hugged closer to his side. She knew well that destruction meant danger.

Link carried on. He was long accustomed to both.

_Castle Town. Clouds veiled in shadow. The smell of rotting flesh. Seven years of pain and suffering at the twisted hands of a tyrant. He could have stopped it…_

Link swallowed the lump in his throat. He analysed all around him, trying to get a sense for the fate that had befallen the village. No smoke, no cinders, no telling signs of a raid. Human hands, or anything remotely like them, could not have been responsible for the desolation and death that surrounded him.  

No. Something much more terrifying had beset the village. Something _huge_.

Regardless, Link was already too late to stop the tragedy. But how late?

The cobbled path beneath Link’s feet smoothed out into even stone as he entered what appeared to be the village square. Various market stalls stood abandoned in the open space, their goods left to rot in the blazing sunlight. A marble statue sat elevated towards the centre of the square. Its top half was absent, which left only the stone-robed bottom half of a womanly figure. Link could not glean anything from it.

The wet squelch of spoiled fruit splitting beneath Link’s heel made his stomach turn. He kicked his boot clean against the ground and continued on with more tentative steps.

A building to his right cut partway into the village square. From the look of its decorated windows and tall spires, Link took it for a chapel, buildings he had been seeing with increasing regularity.  

Against the surrounding chaos, the structure was somehow untouched. Link huffed at the sight. Deities certainly knew how to look after themselves. No matter how devout the villagers may have been in their faith, their gods had felt fit to hide within the grey stone sanctuary and leave their subjects for death. Obviously they did not find their followers worthy of protection. The thought of such inactivity disgusted him.

The clopping of hooves approached from the other side of the chapel and Link stopped dead in his tracks, only now remembering he would still have to deal with the company of riders. They were getting closer, and he had only his ears to inform him of their position.

Not wanting to reveal himself too early to the newcomers, Link calmly ushered Epona right up against the sun warmed stone of the chapel and waited. Link hoped that the horse-riders would pass by unaware of his presence, and that he could maybe get a decent look at them.

Two horses replete with their riders appeared from the right side of the chapel. Hooves clacked on the smooth ground, sending hollow echoes down the empty streets. The burgundy cloaks of the riders fluttered behind them as they moved up the village square at speed, then turned left and out of view down another street.

Link closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. The riders had missed him entirely. He peeked around the corner of the chapel. Once he ensured the coast was clear, Link slipped around the corner with Epona in tow and continued down the street the same street the riders had arrived from.

At the far end of the street stood an intact wooden gate, beyond which laid the tent which Link had marked as his first destination. He held no doubt there would be others there to ‘greet’ him, but he put faith into the notion that these people were friendly. Then again, he did enter the village without giving full thought to the possibility that they might, in fact, not have the most honourable of intentions. Maybe he was just too trusting sometimes, too optimistic.

_It’s too late to start second guessing yourself now_. He massaged his sweat dampened forehead, and then sighed. Act first, he thought, and deal with the consequences later.

As Link approached the tall open gates he noticed a hitching post off the left side of the street, hidden away between a home with no roof and the wooden wall that surrounded the village.

He counted six horses tied to the short circular post, and another four which stood free of their tethers. Though all the proud beasts of varying breeds were weighed down by heavy looking bags, it was the sight of yew longbows strapped horizontally across the back of each individual saddle that intrigued Link most. Did the steeds all belong to the figures he’d seen earlier? Link hadn’t spied any weapons with the two horse-riders from before, but then they had moved out of sight too quickly for him to make a proper analysis.    

If these people had all arrived armed, Link figured, then it was obvious they anticipated trouble, which in turn could mean the cause of the village’s destruction still remained within the area. Or perhaps they _had_ been the cause, and had returned to remind themselves of the misery they’d inflicted on poor desert-stranded innocents and with a sick desire to pilfer and pillage whatever spoils may have remained.      

Link shook his head, disparaging his own thoughts. He’d still seen no evidence to suggest an attack on a human scale. Raids too often brought massacre, left the bodies of innocents beaten, mangled, strewn across streets. It was inevitable that there would’ve been casualties in the mass destruction surrounding him. And yet, strangely enough, Link had yet to spot any corpses or even blood amongst the debris.  

He dearly hoped the villagers had managed to find safe refuge away from their former home. There had to be somewhere for them to escape to.

_But there’s nowhere to hide in a desert, Link._ A chill ran down his spine at his own thought.   _Just where the hell **are** they? _

As he and Epona continued towards the village gates, the little red horse faced the brown-bricked road underfoot, attempting to remain ignorant of the fact that other stallions were even present. She often grew nervous around her own kind, especially the larger breeds. Link hadn’t quite managed to figure out why - either other horses intimidated her, or she just didn’t like them.

One of the untethered horses looked directly at Link, its blank, black eyes following him as he moved. The steed’s nostrils flared out wide, as though displeased by Link’s appearance. Link shot back a narrow glare. The horse didn’t seem to care.

Link stopped just outside the village gates and pulled down his cloak hood. He ran a hand through matted blonde hair, found the rim of his forest green hat and tugged it forward to ensure it would remain secure on top of his head. Satisfied, he then loosened his cloak around his neck, attempting to let some air in. His whole body felt raw, stuffy, and though his tattered cloak helped to keep the scorching sun away from his skin, it certainly wasn’t helping to regulate the awful heat.

The leather-skinned tent sat to the right of the road, a short distance out from the village wall. It looked smaller than what Link had previously imagined from a distance - its red-dyed walls seemed incapable of housing any more than six bodies. Metal pegs dug deep into soft sand, just about managing to keep the structure upright.

A flag slumped down at the tent’s coned peak, unmoving despite the breeze’s soft command. The entrance flaps sat tight together, hiding whatever lay within the crimson-skinned walls.

Towards the centre of the flaps, Link saw an emblem – a minimalist profile of a wolf’s head, mouth open and teeth bared. The emblem’s clean silver embroidery glimmered fantastically against the sunlight. Link recognised the design. Some of Nathaniel’s cargo bared a similar design. And when he put more thought into it, the sacks emblazoned with the symbol had seemed the largest and most tightly bound to the courier’s already packed draught horse. Royal cargo, perhaps, or supplies intended for an army. It made more sense to him now.

Link breathed in deep through his nose and then approached the tent, unsure of what he’d find within.

“You got a plan to take this thing down?”              

Link stopped at the sudden voice. A man’s. It had come from inside the tent. Silence followed.

Link swallowed away the tightness in his throat. He took bold steps towards the tent, only stopping inches short of the entrance when a woman’s voice spoke a simple and assured, “No.”

“So, what?” the man responded, making no attempts to keep his volume low. “You just gonna run out there, hope it rolls over and accepts defeat?”

“If it had any sense,” the woman said, “then it would.” Link heard the shifting of sand as someone moved around inside the tent. “Either way, there’s no other call to make. I hope you are capable of thinking on your feet, Captain.”

“What?" The man sounded bemused.

The sound of movement stopped. “We test the wastelands, captain. If you don’t have your wits about you, then you’ll have no hope in hell out there.”

“Much like yourself, commander,” the man said, his calm tone barely hiding its venomous fangs. “My squad and I’ve lived here for over five years. And where’ve you been all that time? Feet up on a desk, sucking on grapes, yelling for everyone else to die in your stead.” More movements came from within, this time with metallic clinking. “You worry about me, commander, but you wouldn’t last five minutes in that hellhole.”

Link heard the woman’s dry laugh. “You must speak of someone else, captain. I am not fond of grapes.”

The captain gave a disgruntled sigh.

Link took a few more tiny steps towards the tent entrance, soft sand scrunching beneath his feet. Epona quietly stalked the ground behind him, seeming to realise his desire for stealth.

“You’ve got some nerve, commander.” The captain’s tone was beginning to lose all sense of calmness. “You know, there’s nothing I hate more than people trying to tell me how to do my own goddamn job, and yet you feel fit to come here and question my capabilities whenever _you_ can’t even form a strategy beyond ‘Go kill it’.”

A rustling sound came from within. Link couldn’t determine the source.

“A strategy based on what, captain?” The commander’s plain voice had too begun to lose its calm pretence. “Frightened witnesses and pure conjecture? But if you want plan so badly, then here: we’ll shoot it, we’ll stab it, we’ll call it names, _whatever_ _works_!”

There was a pause. Metal shuffled.

A heavy breath finally escaped the commander, and she went on, calmed. “You’re unwise, captain, expecting me to create something from nothing under these circumstances.”

“Then why did _he_ make _you_ a commander?”

“Amadeus has an eye for talent in all respects, captain, not just plan formulation. But do tell me - why do you think _you’re_ stuck all the way out here?”

The captain did not answer.

Link frowned at the woman’s snide insinuation.   Neither she nor the captain was making the best first impression on him, but with comments like that she was certainly coming off the worst of the two.  

Link reached out to pull back one of the tent flaps, but quickly retracted his hand, fingers curling. Considering these two people were supposedly allies and _still_ argued with each, he couldn’t imagine either of them being pleasant if a complete stranger just wandered up to them. Instead, Link moved to the side of the tent entrance, waiting for the right moment to introduce himself.

He mulled the conversation between the two officers inside his head, looking back through the gates into the ruined village as he pieced together what little information he’d heard. _“Go kill **it.** ”_ Not **_“them.”_** So not a group, just as he’d already thought – something singular. But neither of the officers sounded terribly assured about what ‘it’ was. The two of them must’ve already discussed ‘it’ before he’d made his way to the tent. Perhaps a beast of some description, or-  

Link’s musing was cut short when a strong wind slapped him across his entire body. It would have brought him to his knees had he not planted his feet wide and deep against the thick sandbed and braced himself. On instinct, he reached up towards his green cap and flattened it against his head, preventing it from flying away with the sudden gale. Epona only shuffled and snorted quietly, once again braving the forceful winds with unflappable determination.        

The tent beside them shook and swayed violently, testing its already weak foundations to their limit until the wind passed.

Link cautiously raised his body up straight, fixing his cloak which had twisted itself around his neck.

“Pleasant,” he heard the woman say.

“Not partial to desert weather, eh?” the captain said, seemingly delighted.

“Avoid it whenever possible.”

The man grunted, the sound wet and amused. “Better get familiar with it quick, then. We’re due a sandstorm any time now. This is just the build-up for the main event.”

“Oh for—“ The commander let off a deep, growling sigh. “We’ve got enough to deal with today.”

“Better think on your feet, commander.” Smugness poured from the captain’s voice.

“Hunting creatures isn’t the same as fighting unfavourable conditions. Surely you would know the difference.”  

Link could almost feel the tension in the following pause hanging heavy in the air between the two officers.

“I _really_ hope you didn’t come here just to insult me,” the captain said, annoyed.

“No, captain.” More sand shifted from within the tent. " _We_ came here to kill _your_ problem. Insults come as standard.

Link knitted his brow, attempting to peek through a gap in the tent’s entrance but to no success. He couldn’t tell if the commander was simply joking or being serious. Her tone had betrayed no emotion at all.

The captain held back a growl. “Of all the soldiers that _bastard_ had to send…”

“Amadeus has not wronged you this day,” the commander said. “You have the privilege of working with thebest squadron this end of the Highlands. I would highly suggest that you do not squander the opportunity.” No pride had sneaked its way into any part of her voice - only flat, stoical statement.

“ _Privilege._ ” The captain drew a defeated breath. “I’ll just have to take what I can get, eh?”

“There’s no guessing about it, Filus. You’d be a great fool to turn us away.”      

For what felt like minutes, the captain went uncomfortably silent. “You…” he stammered, clearly holding back rage. “Oh, you… just…” He sighed. “Excuse me.”

Another sound of faint metallic rustling came from inside the tent, growing louder as it came towards the entrance.

_Oh, damn._

Link swiftly backed up from the tent flaps, gritting his teeth as he glanced left to right. In his panic, he bumped his back against Epona’s head, forgetting she was even behind him. The filly let out a snort and backed up unsteadily, but Link was already stumbling. He fell clumsily to his rear, thankfully landing on his cloak which masked the feeling of the searing hot sand. It all happened in mere seconds.

Link groaned as he tried to get back on his feet, more in annoyance with himself than from pain. He’d barely gotten to his knees when a lightly armoured man stormed from the tent, bursting the entrance flaps out in separate directions. The captain’s short-haired profile grimaced in fury, and Link could only assume that his other side looked much the same. 

Link didn’t move from his kneeled position, startled. His primitive instinct – stay perfectly still and maybe he wouldn’t be seen - but of course,it didn’t work. It was only a matter of seconds before the two of them locked eyes. Link’s arms tensed up, his shoulders unintentionally stuck in a shrug.

Confusion took over the captain’s red-tinged face. He cocked his head, upper lip caught in a snarl as he tried – and seemingly failed – to sus out where this strange, plump-faced, green hatted little boy had even come from.

Link smiled vacuously. _Ohcrapohcrapohcrap-_

A few awkward seconds passed before Link finally managed a single, squeaky “Hi.”  

The captain made no response. He slowly backed up towards the tent, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Link - and Link’s on him – and disappeared through the entrance flaps, not even turning around.

Link hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until he released it. Feeling control return to his body, Link shot back up to his feet.

This wasn’t how he planned to introduce himself at all.

“Commander.”

Link brushed his cloak off. Specks of sand flittered off the black fabric and re-joined their friends underfoot.

“Well, that was quick,” the woman said dryly.

“There’s… something you should see outside.”

Link considered running. Leaping onto Epona and charging back inside the village to hide. Bad things could happen if he stayed. They mightn’t be friendly _at all_.

“Oh, out with it, captain,” the woman snapped. “I’ve no time for mysteries.”

The captain grunted. “Just see for yourself.”

Link reeled back across the sand bed, golden grainsreaching the ankles of his boots. For a moment, nothing happened. He breathed in deep and waited with confidence. _Too late to run now, anyway._

A woman’s head popped out between the tent flaps, twisted to the right, and upon seeing nothing, snapped left with unfathomable speed to where Link was standing. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. Her head slinked back inside the tent.

“Thought it would’ve been something important, Filus.” She was whispering now, but Link’s sensitive ears still picked up her words.

“Isn’t it, though?” The captain paused. “You not see his ears?”

“I’m not blind, Filus.”

“…He’s not from here.”

“Hm. Is that so.”

Link gritted his teeth until his mouth ached.

The entrance splayed open twice in quick succession as a tower of a woman and her comparatively short companion strolled out of the crimson tent. The commander was holding back her long red cloak, and her right hand was rested on the silver pommel of the blade strapped beside her waist. Unlike the captain’s passivity, it seemed she had decided to handle him directly.

Link gave the commander no ground as she moved to him, a magnificent scowl plastered on her face. Had she been moving any faster, though, he would have considered leaping out of the way lest she trampled right over him.

Link’s fingers twitched, eager to reach into his cloak, eager to draw the weapon strapped across his back in defence of the woman’s undue aggression. _Stay calm, Link._ He balled his left hand into a fist when the commander suddenly stopped only a few feet in front of him, her blade still firmly secured within its silver decorated sheath. _Just **stay calm**. _      

“Well,” the commander said. "Feel free to explain yourself anytime now.” She spoke with the same dryness she had regarded the captain with.

Link had to look up towards the sky just to meet her gaze. The woman easily stood well over six foot, and perhaps even further. He felt like a hovel built at the base of a lighthouse. Like a midget standing tall against a giant.

_You’ve got guts, kid._

His knees felt suddenly weak.

“Are you lost, boy?”

Link gulped away the dread. The commander hadn’t seemed to notice his momentary loss of composure. With a tense, confident smirk, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Just passing through, ma’am.”

The commander breathed in, baring her teeth only slightly. “Do not take me for an idiot. You’ve been listening in, haven’t you?” She flicked her head towards the captain, who stood to the right of and two heads shorter than the mountainous commander. The man only stared at Link, his face a mixture of confusion and… disgust? Link gulped again, noiselessly. He slowly trailed his eyes off the captain and back to the commander.

“It looks like you’ve got a problem going on,” Link more or less confirmed.

“Oh, I do so _wonder_ what could have given that away.” If the commander hadn’t looked so angry, Link would have assumed sarcasm. Though, he often found the sarcasm of others hard to read, even at the best of times.

Link scratched his cheek nervously. "Well, uh-“

“Oh, don’t waste my time, boy.” The woman paced left. Her cold eyes stared him down. "You shouldn’t be here.”

“I said I was only passing through.”

“So you did, indeed.” The commander stopped moving. Her weight shifted to one side. “But to where, boy?”

Link stumbled in his mind, even though he knew the question was coming. Lying didn’t agree with him- not right now – nor did he think it would even work.

So Link did not lie. He said, “Nowhere.”

The commander only deepened her scowl on Link. Behind her, however, the captain laughed mirthlessly, but added no words of his own.

“I really don’t know what either of you expected to hear,” Link said, “but it’s the truth.”

“Well,” the commander breathed softly, a frigid smirk snaking across her lips, “whatever the case may be, my point still stands - you have no reason to be here. And regardless, passers-by should not stop to eavesdrop on matters that don’t concern them.”

“I was curious,” Link said, feigning innocence as well as he could manage.

“Curiosity kills, boy.”              

Link folded his arms, keeping his outer shell calm and collected. Inside, though, worry had begun to make itself at home. The commander had already made a clear impression on him that she did not mince her words. He could appreciate her bluntness, even though he disagreed with her statement. Curiosity, Link believed, was the only thing that kept him going now.

The commander spun on her heels and faced the captain, who reeled his head back in surprise at her swift movement. “Go see to your men,” she said.

The captain looked up at the taller woman, his lip snarled. “What’re you go-“

“An order, Captain,” she snapped back. “No questions.”

A conflict of emotions ran rampant on the captain’s reddened face before finally settling on defeat. He warily glanced in Link’s direction with a look that _almost_ appeared sympathetic before he shuffled off towards the village gates, granting the commander no argument.

Link frowned at the man as he moved, feeling a conflict of emotions himself. One minute, the captain was looking at him like a sickening freak of nature, the next, a dreary eyed glance that almost – _almost -_ suggested that the man, for whatever reason, felt sorry for him.

But then, the commander had given him similar looks too, though much more subtle in their execution. He couldn’t understand the disparity. Did they pity him – a lost little child stranded in the desert? Or did they hate him. _For what, eavesdropping?_  He remembered then what the captain had whispered, and self-consciously brought one hand up to the fleshy narrow tip of his ear. The skin burned hot against his fingers.

_Or do they just hate **you** in general?_

Link shook his head as the captain finally disappeared through the wooden village gateway, and sincerely hoped that he was overreacting. He could not bear the negativity that dwelled within him sometimes.

“You,” the commander drawled heavily. Link thrust his attention back to her. She made a gesture with her hand and then turned towards the village entrance, closing her cloak across her chest. “Walk with me.”

Link hesitated, but the commander did not wait for him. Her steps were long and strong and filled with purpose, as if she didn’t care whether he followed or not.

A thought occurred to him. He could leave right that moment, and the commander could have done little to stop him beyond giving chase. The fact she walked away without even ensuring he would follow meant more than words could have said.

He didn’t stall to rationalise more than that. He knew he was taking a chance, but his gut told him to go with it.

He whirled around to meet Epona’s doe-eyed stare and clicked his tongue a few times, stepping backwards and gesturing her to follow, before he turned back and jogged after the woman.Only hindering sand and short legs slowed his chase.

Perhaps, thought Link, he needed to give these people a chance.


End file.
